


Stitches

by VaultEscapeArtist



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaultEscapeArtist/pseuds/VaultEscapeArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right before Danarius ambushes Fenris in the Hanged Man. Danarius wants what he claims is his back and is smart enough to cripple Fenris's greatest ally before he goes after the escaped slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

 

**Stitched**

**Dragon Age 2**

**F!Hawke/Fenris**

  
**A/N:** Warning! Major Character Deaths. If you don't want to feel sad, then you probably shouldn't read on. Just wanted to be upfront about that. 

I had this idea a long while ago but I figured it had been overdone. So far I haven't seen it, not to say it's not out there, but I'm going to write this anyway. I'll probably rewrite this eventually. When I'm not so tired.

Also, have I mentioned how mUCH I HATE DANARIUS?

 

* * *

 

 

At the quiet mention of his sister's arrival, Hawke wonders how many years it will take to convince Fenris that she is wholeheartedly on his side. She's known the elf for a long time now, but still when he feels safe enough to ask something of her his eyes always shoot down first and then up, filled with such heartbreaking vulnerability before he finally forms the words.

 

“It would mean a lot to me. That's all I ask.”

 

She struggles for a second, trying to find a way to make this easier for him. She smiles, a ridiculous, toothy grin and she replies, “Of course, Fenris. I know I may not be the best example for sibling relationships, let's not mention Carver, shall we?, but I'll do what I can. If you need anyone to make a terrible pun, I'll be _right_ there.”

 

He nods once, stiffly and she knows it's time for her to leave. She always fears she lingers too long in his presence, especially after what had happened the night he stole away with one of her crimson handkerchiefs. So she smiles again and bows out, her mabari licking his gloved hand before following her outside.

 

As she walks the empty Hightown streets, realizing how late it has become, she attempts to envision Fenris's sister. A woman with those deep, green eyes would be dangerous. Half the men in Kirkwall would be besides themselves, throwing roses and dowries at her feet. The other half would be cursing their dumb luck for marrying so damn early.

 

Hawke suddenly laughs as the image of a brooding girl with Fenris's dark brows pops into her head next. Rebel, her dog, makes a happy barking sound to echo her laughter.

 

Her home is empty, as always. Orana and her dwarven friends have all gone to bed. _And rightfully so_ , she yawns. As to not wake them, Hawke tiptoes silently up to her room. Her hand reaches for the door when Rebel bites into her ankle and drags her back.

 

“What are you _doing_ , boy?” she hisses, trying to yank her ankle out of his vice-like grip. “That hurts!”

 

Rebel releases her, only to face her bedroom door and growl. Hawke's eyes widen, and she quickly summons as much mana as she can muster and blows her door wide open. Her door tears itself off its hinges and hits her bed on the other side of the room.

 

She brings flames to her hands in preparation for a fight, but she finds her room empty instead.

 

It doesn't stay that way.

 

Rebel's barking grows louder as fire and glowing lava appear in a large circle on her floor. A rage demon erupts out of it and, cursing her choice of spells, Hawke hurtles her flames at the demon. It doesn't affect him, as she knew it would, but the ice she sends in a half ring around her does. Before she has time to celebrate, however, something coarse wraps around her neck and she's being tugged backwards.

 

Her back hits the top of her stairs and her hands wrap around her own neck, tugging at what she assumes to be rope. She's been lassoed like cattle. Her body bounces again and she finds herself at the bottom of her stairway, choked and gasping for air. When she attempts to stand the rope is pulled again and she is tugged forward, skidding across the expensive carpet her mother made her order from Antiva.

 

“That's quite far enough,” an oddly charming voice barks from her study. Hawke looks up towards the sound, only to find herself surrounded by Qunari. Perhaps they're here to avenge their Arishok, but that doesn't seem right. A boot comes hard and fast down on her forehead and even through the pain Hawke's only grateful that her skull wasn't crushed in. Her vision swims, then clears, and she realizes it's even worse than Qunari. They're _Tal-Vashoth._ She knows how to reason with Qunari, even understand them on some level, but with Tal-Vashoth she is lost.

 

The voice from her study, a human one, she guesses, sounds even closer the next time he speaks. “Use the magebane, _but keep it away from me!_ ” 

 

“Come here, little sarebaas,” one of the Tal-Vashoth croons to her in his rough voice. He blows a handful (or clawful) of dirt into her face and she sneezes reflexively.

 

 _Enough_. Hawke grabs a piece of the rope tethering her to one of the Tal-Vashoth and she uses her fire to burn through it. Once she stands she ignores the strange burning sensation in the back of her throat and turns to electrocute the qunari that caught her with the rope in the first place. 

 

As the spell sputters to life she knows immediately something is very wrong. The human laughs as her spell refuses to go any further and the lightning turns to her. She screams and falls to the floor, curling into herself as her own electricity courses through her.

 

 _Magebane_. Oh, Maker, she is a fool. Her father had warned her of its uses, but no templar she knew was allowed to carry it. Even the Chantry with all their Tranquil saw some things as too cruel to use on mages.

 

She is without magic thanks to the magebane, but she is not weaponless, yet. Rebel throws himself off the stairs and into one of the qunari. There are more than they can fight, Hawke knows this, but there is always a chance for escape. Less so without her magic, but she's always been an optimist.

 

The human speaks once more. “Kill the mutt.” Hawke screams again as a qunari spear pierces her mabari and he falls over, still.

 

She no longer focuses on escape. Instead she lunges at the man with the intent to _rip his bloody head off._

 

Unfortunately the Tal-Vashoth leap into action, two of them grabbing her arms and lifting her in the air. She dangles in their hold and curses. The one human among them steps forward until his smirking face is just inches from hers.

 

“I've heard a lot about you, Marian Hawke. And, no, it doesn't surprise me that you'd leap to the defense of a _dog_. It was this behavior that led me to take care of you first, before I retrieve my little wolf.”

 

Little wolf? Oh, no. No, no, no. _Danarius_. It's bloody Danarius. Had he followed Varania to Kirkwall? Is Varania in _league_ with him? The latter thought makes her feel ill, but she knows there is no use wasting time thinking about how he came to be in Kirkwall. She needs to save her energy for making sure Fenris got to tear out his heart.

 

Though the magebane has burned her throat severely, she forces out, “He's going to _kill_ you.”

 

The mage keeps smiling and nods to one of the qunari. “I paid these men _a lot_ of coin to have them perform a service for you. Normally I wouldn't condone their barbarianism on another mage, but as a Ferelden you're just as barbaric as the qunari so I suppose it's fitting.”

 

She spits on him, unable to do much else. At least it causes his smile to fade and he pulls out a dark red cloth to wipe the spittle away.

 

“Take her back upstairs and do what I paid you to.” His eyes turn to her dog's body. “And clean that shit up. It's starting to smell.”

 

 _What_ did _that bastard pay them to do?_ Her mind whirls, going immediately to dark, dark places, and she fights against her captors. When she sees a glint of silver in the low light and finds one of the Tal-Vashoth has a large stitching needle.

 

She recalls Ketojan and his collar and his stitched together mouth.

 

She has never figured herself for a screamer, but it seems that this will be one of her last chances to utter _any_ kind of sound.

 

* * *

 

 

She isn't here. Fenris paces, a habit he's never bothered to break. He wonders if he told Hawke the wrong day or if this is just simply payback. She _leaves_ him at his most vulnerable. It would be ironic. And _fair_ , he thinks, remembering the night he had walked out on her. 

 

No, Hawke, she... She was better than him. She wouldn't walk away from him now. After so long. After...

 

He's unsure now. Varania is inside the Hanged Man, waiting for him, but he doesn't want to meet her yet. Not without Hawke. He has others with him, sure. His paranoia ensures that. But Varric, Aveline, and Sebastian are very simply not _Hawke_.

 

_Where are you?_

 

“We're, uh, wasting daylight here,” Varric suddenly announces. Fenris stares at him. “Look, Broody, she wouldn't miss this if she could help it. She has a reason for not being here. I know Hawke.”

 

“I know.”

 

The Guard-Captain nods in agreement. Sebastian gently touches Fenris's shoulder, who jerks away from the contact and says, calmly, “The rest of us are here behind you. We'll stand in for Hawke.”

 

He considers running. Really considers it. He'd rather leave Varania to wait while he tracks down Hawke and demands to know why she wasn't there for him. But in his heart he cannot blame her and he slowly turns to enter the Hanged Man's doorway.

 

* * *

 

 

A few words from a sister he barely recalls and Fenris realizes he's been betrayed. By the only flesh and blood he has left. It stings like nothing else, but there is a familiarity underneath the hurt. He has been prepared for this, expecting it even.

 

But Sebastian, Aveline, and Varric are good, honest (well, Varric was honest at times) and will not let Fenris be taken so easily. And, Fenris thinks, if Isabela is in her room she'll join in as well. If only so she could loot the bodies later. As long as he gets to end Danarius, Fenris is happy to let her.

 

Danarius steps down from the Hanged Man's upper rooms and Fenris forces himself not to move backwards an inch. But he is afraid. He _knows_ that face and how to read it. Danarius was normally smug and arrogant, but Fenris had learned quickly to tell when Danarius had devised some new torment for him.

 

It will be different this time. It has to be or Fenris will be certain that there is no Maker or Creator or any god at all. He has friends this time. A guardswoman and a Chantry brother will never stand for slavery. Neither will Varric. And Hawke-

 

Isn't here.

 

Danarius speaks and Fenris _hates_ how he still snaps to attention to listen. “I have found you, my little wolf. I think it's high time that we get you back to Tevinter, don't you?”

 

“Slavery is illegal in Kirkwall, Magister,” Aveline warns, her guard training coming to light. “You have no authority here.”

 

“Not over the law, perhaps,” Danarius surprisingly agrees. “But over him? Over my Fenris? Yes, yes I do. It's not illegal if he willingly comes with me, guardswoman.”

 

“I'm not your slave, Danarius,” Fenris's words are more of a growl. Danarius still brings out his more animalistic nature. _Damn_ him. Damn _Hawke_.

 

Danarius is still in agreement. “I had heard you had a new master. But I think you'll find that she is in no shape to be commanding anyone.”

 

Varric realizes it first. “ _No_.”

 

From inside one of the upper rooms, two qunari emerge and Fenris can't understand why they would aid a Tevinter. Aveline comes up with the answer.

 

“Tal-Vashoth.”

 

So Danarius bought two qunari bodyguards. As if that would keep Fenris from finally having his master's still beating heart in his hands. His grip on the sword Hawke gave him tightens and his body tenses into a familiar fighting stance. He's deciding who to attack first when the qunari bring her out.

 

For a minute he can't comprehend what he's seeing due to the sheer _wrongness_ of it. There is Hawke, right where she said she'd be. But the small, chained thing in front of him _can't_ be the same woman that toppled a dragon just because he had said it was a bad idea.

 

There is a collar on her and Fenris's own throat constricts as he remembers that choking feeling. But her collar is heavy and made for someone much larger than herself.

 

Her eyes are still on the ground at Danarius's feet and for awhile Fenris is spared the worst of it. And then she looks at him.

 

Her mouth has been clumsily stitched shut, the area around her lips still raw and bleeding. Without being able to see inside her mouth Fenris knows her tongue is gone. Cut out by one of the qunari at his former master's side. The same tongue that had so gently pressed against his after he had barged into her home, aching for her.

 

The tongue that told jokes at importune times. That clicked against the roof of her mouth when she was thinking. The tongue she sometimes stuck out at him when she was in a considerably playful mood.

 

He thinks, _this is my fault._ He thinks that if Hawke had her tongue still she'd be doing everything she could to convince him that it _wasn't_.

 

Then Fenris thinks of Ketojan, the qunari mage that Chantry sister had them escort. And he knows why Danarius paid for the services of the Tal-Vashoth.

 

“Sarebaas,” one of the qunari says flatly. “Bas sarebaas.”

 

It gets worse. He didn't think it could, but Fenris has been very wrong before.

 

A control rod. Danarius has Hawke's control rod. When he tells her to kneel, smiling sweetly at Fenris all the while, she doesn't immediately comply. Danarius does something to the rod and suddenly Hawke is on the floor, writhing in pain and completely silent. Fenris nearly hopes that she'll withstand what is being done to her. That Hawke, his prime example of someone who was completely free in everything she did and said, would show Danarius that he cannot control everyone.

 

It's when she finally does kneel that Fenris goes to her.

 

Uncharacteristically, Sebastian is yelling at Danarius, telling him exactly where the Maker will send him. Fenris is aware that he is speaking but his attention is focused now on Hawke. She won't look at him. She doesn't think he can take it. He's not sure he can, either.

 

“I can kill her with this, you know.” Danarius indicates the control rod in his hand.

 

“Don't,” Fenris says and he knows it is over. Danarius has power over him again and this time it is _his own damn fault._

 

Hawke hears the resignation in his voice and her eyes burn into his, trying to say “don't you dare”. But he can do nothing else. Hawke has been maimed because of her connection to him; he will not have her dead as well.

 

Danarius smiles. He knows he has him.

 

He doesn't know Hawke.

 

Hawke suddenly sits up, shoving Fenris away in the process. She fights her way to her feet, the struggle evident in the pained grunts she manages to push past her stitched lips.

 

Fenris thinks of Ketojan again as Hawke throws herself around Danarius's waist and sets them both aflame.

 


End file.
